


Premonitions

by Dopple_Girl



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopple_Girl/pseuds/Dopple_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester has premonitions. He can see when people are about to die, and he's hasn't been wrong yet. So, when he sees another man die, he knows he has to help since it's another one of those "special kids" like him. But when it's another ocean away, Sam finds himself flying solo in a situation that a little too much for this 23 year old hunter.<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/>Doctor Who: After Amy's Choice but before The Hungry Earth</p><p>Sherlock:Before Season 1 (John will be in it, I promise.)</p><p>Supernatural: After No Exit but before The Usual Suspects<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/>I own none of the characters in this story. John's and Sherlock's backstories are not canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam's head began to throb. The pain felt like a migraine, only a thousand times worse. He clutched my forehead, falling back into the leather seats of the impala. Maybe he thought they would be easier to handle, but instead they felt harder and harder each time.

"Sammy?" Dean asked from the drivers seat. He looked at his younger brother as he pulled over onto the side of the road. But he knew that there wasn't he could do about it. The vision was something they didn't had any control over, and Sam was already starting to fade in and out. Street names streaked across his vision as it became harder to determine reality from hallucination. 

There was a man. He was getting off us a bus, a big red double decker bus. No doubt he was in London, since as the bus pulled away the London Eye was visible. His hands were in his pockets and his coat was upturned. He didn't look many people in the eye, just kept on walking down the street until he turned into an alleyway. He didn't notice the man in front of him until he bumped into him. 

"Sorry." He muttered, and tried to walk away. But he stopped suddenly and started backing away toward the wall, a gun pointed at his head. His face remained calm, even as the barrel of the gun touched his forehead. But his eyes looked perplexed, as the gun had nobody holding it. "How ... How are you doing that?"

"Sssssshhhhhh" The other man said, and put his finger on his mouth. "It will all be over soon. I promise." He jolted up, sweat trickling down his forehead. Dean's hand was on Sam's shoulder, looking down at me with concerning eyes. But those words, the way he said them, still resonated in his head. "I promise."

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked, taking his hand off my shoulder. 

"Yeah, just another vision." He said.

"If you say." His older brother responded, and climbed into the drivers seat. Putting the key in, the engine hummed to live and soon they were back on the road. "So, where is this one?"

"Dean, you're not coming with me." Sam said coolly to his older brother. "Not this time."

"Sammy, I'm coming. We've got to stick together. We have nobody else."

"Dean..." He started, but was cut off again by Dean. 

"No. There is no ifs, ands, or buts. We stick together no matter what. End of discussion." The two sat in silence, until Dean broke it a few miles later. "So, where WE going this time?" 

"London."

"Ohio or Kentucky?"

"England." Sam said, then was thrown forward in the car. Dean, his foot still on the break, looked at his brother in such a way that he didn't need to say his next words. 

"Are you insane?!? No way we going to England! Dude, you know how I feel about flying!"

"Yea. That's why I said you're not coming. You stay here and I head over to London to stop the guy dying." Sam said, but Dean still didn't let up. 

"Sure it's not in Ohio?" Dean suggested. 

"Does America have red double decker buses? Or the London Eye?"

"Sam, work with me here! I'm not going to let you go to England alone." Dean protested. He looked at his brother, concern in his eyes. Sam didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Got anything Sammy?" Dean asked, strolling into the motel room with a coffee in each hand. But Sam wasn't in the room. His laptop was missing, but all the papers he used for the case were still scattered across the bed. "Sam?" He asked, putting the coffees down on the nearby table. It didn't take him long to find the note his brother left for him. 

Sorry, Dean -S.W. 

"Son of a Bitch!"  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"No thanks." Sam said to the flight attendant. The plane was reaching cruising altitude, and Sam found himself flicking his head to the empty seat next to him. He felt bad for lying to Dean, but what else could he do? Another person was going to die because of the yellowed eyed demon and the kids he's messed up because of it. Sam just couldn't let that happen again. And about halfway through the flight, he found himself humming Metallica.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was addicted. The genius inside him needed to be fueled with something, and this time it was nicotine. He took another puff at his cigarette, leaning harder against the brick wall in the London alleyway. Usually he preferred cocaine, but cigarettes will have to do. He wanted a case so bad, but even then the police wouldn't even let them him near them. So it was back on the cigarettes. 

He stood up, removing the cigarette from his mouth. He needed to get moving, to find a case. Maybe if he just went somewhere else, a place nobody knew him. He just needed to start over. Find another case. And this was the best way to do it. He started walking, head down, toward the corner where the bus station was. Not many people were there, just a woman and young man. Sherlock decided to deduce them, just because he was bored. 

The woman, about 16 or 17 years old, had light brown hair and bangs hanging down to her eyes. He had been crying recently, and there was dirt on her knees, probably kneeling recently. The slight redness in her eyes meant she had been crying, so grave of a loved one. She held onto a book tightly, and the cover faded away but still readable. 101 places to go. Must have been said loved ones before they died. Teenage girl would never visit if it's a random relative, so most likely her mum or dad. 

He didn't have much time to deduce the man, since the bus was there soon. The woman got on first as he fished out his Oyster card. He got after the man, wanting to deduce him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Sam, laptop under his arm, took a seat on the bottom of the bus near the window. It took a while to get the card for the buses, but he didn't want to waste any time finding the man from his vision. He was a few seats behind him, so it didn't seem like he was following him. Besides, the man kept looking at him at the stop. It made him feel uncomfortable. 

He looked out the window, his thoughts drifting but somehow always ended back to Dean. He would have loved London, I shouldn't have left him,how's he doing on the case. Often, he would toward his left waiting for a sarcastic remark, only to find Dean wasn't there. It was different being on your own, knowing that your brother was miles away. After everything they've been through. 

He got off the bus as soon as he saw the famous London landmark. Looking around, he saw the man heading toward the alleyway. He ran to catch up to him, trying as best he could to avoid people. 

"Excuse me." Sam said, tapping lightly on the man's shoulder. "I'm staying here for a few days. Do you happen to show me where a hotel might be near here?" He look at him with a little bit of puzzlement at the simple request. 

"Yeah, sure. It's just down this way." He said, and pointed down the street. He started walking away from the alleyway where he would have died. Sighing with relief, Sam followed him to the end of another street. They turned down another crowded street, where they had to wait for the light to change. 

"So," the man asked, turning to Sam. "Why'd you leave your brother?"

"I'm sorry ... How did you..?"

"On the bus, you kept glancing to your left, clear indicator that you usually have someone with you. Wondering why the left, but then again you have an American accent. Americans drive on the left side of the road, so he often drives while you sit in the passengers. Clothes are flannel, lacking a feminine touch, so not your girlfriend or mum. Judging you're in your early twenties, most likely a friend or brother. Did I miss anything?" 

"That's ... that's amazing how you were able to guess all that." Sam said, awestruck. 

"Not guess, deduce. Sherlock Holmes." He said, extending a hand. Sam took it. 

"Sam Winchester."

"Now, why leave your brother?"

"I had some business to do here and my brother is scared of planes. We lost our dad fairly recently, and he didn't want me going it out alone." The light changed, and Sam quickly hurried across the street with Sherlock in tow. "Why do you ask?"

"Just ... curious I guess. I tend to get bored fairly easily." Sherlock shrugged, then stopped before another intersection. The road wasn't quite as busy, but the two men still waited for the light to change to cross. Sam started to cross, but Sherlock didn't follow this time. "Hotel's up ahead. Sorry, but I've got to go."

"Where?" Sam asked, not wanting to reveal anything more than he should. He didn't want anyone knowing his ability, or think of him as more of an alien than he already was. 

"Nowhere, really. But I really..." Sherlock didn't have time to finish the thought though. Both men had their heads turned to the sound of screeching brakes, and a car heading on a collision course for Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam dove out of the way of the vehicle, and even with the driver's foot on the brake the car plowed through the spot he stood a moment ago. He landed on the street, scraping his skin on the hard concrete. Sherlock was still on the sidewalk, still taking in the scene from a distance. A woman got out the car, and came over to where Sam was. 

"Sorry!" She said, kneeling down to Sam's level. "I'm so so sorry. Didn't mean to ..."

"It's okay." Sam urged her, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Would it surprise you to know that I've been through worse?" She laughed, and Sam heard more of the cars door close. 

"See, Doctor, this is why I said it was a bad idea to let Amy drive!" The one closer to themsaid. 

"Shut up, Rory!" The woman yelled back. She stood up, and Sam followed suit. He looked down, and saw his knees were cut up from his attempt to get away from the car. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days. He turned his attention back to the woman who had almost run him over. "I'm Amy. The one in the bow tie is The Doctor, and the other is Rory, He's my fiancé, so don't get any ideas."

"Don't worry, I'm only here for a couple days. And I'm not much of a flirt anyways. I'm Sam." The two shook hands, and The Doctor and Rory came over. 

"Hello!" The Doctor said. "I'm the Doctor, Am ..."

"Yes, Amy already told me your names. I'm Sam."

"Who's that then?" Rory said, pointing back to where Sherlock stood. He regained his composure, and walked over to where the group stood in the middle of the road. 

"Sherlock Holmes." He said, offering a hand to whoever would take it. The Doctor shook it, then introduced Sherlock to Amy and Rory. A silence fell over the five, until a car horn blared at them. 

"Better get out of the road then." The Doctor suggested. 

"Good idea." Rory agreed, then turned to his fiancé. "And I'm driving."

"No objections here." Sam said, as Amy tossed Rory the keys to their car. He hopped into the quick, and pulled the car over to a space by the hotel, where the others were. "So, what were you doing when you almost ran me over?"

"Just taking a drive." Amy said. "Doctor thought it would be a good idea. Better than all the running."

"Mistake letting Amy drive though." Rory muttered, followed by a smack upside the head by Amy. "Sorry."

"What's the year?" The Doctor. Sam was a little taken back by his statement. 

"How do you..." He started, but was interrupted by Sherlock.

"2006. Why?"

"No reason." The man said, then changed the subject to Sam and Sherlock. "So, what were you two doing?"

"Sherlock was just showing me to a hotel. I'm staying in London for a few days." Sam said. 

"I can tell by the accent." Amy remarked. "What about you Sherlock?"

"I was leaving." He said, pulling a cigarette out his pocket. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay for a little."

"That's the spirit!" The Doctor half said, half yelled. "So, better get you to your hotel, Sam. Sam?" Sam was leaning against the wall, trying to steady himself as a familiar feeling washed over him. His head started to throb, and he really wished Dean was here. 

"Sam, Sam what's wrong?" Rory asked, walking to where Sam was. "I'm a nurse; I can help."

"No ... You ... Can't." Sam said through gritted teeth. He clutched his head, and he was starting to see images cross his vision. "I can't control it." 

Explosions and gunfire were constant. Shouts came from all directions of orders. A soldier brought another into a clearing, away from the battlefield. One was injured, a shot to the knee. He leaned heavily on the other one as he set him down to the ground. He grunted in pain, and the other one put his pack and gun down by his side. He took a knife from his bag, and cut off a piece of his shirt. 

"Alright, now you have to on the wound, and make sure to apply pressure." The man said, handing the other the chunk of his shirt. "Let's get you patched up." He turned to get a first-aid kit out of his bag. He dug around until he found bandages, and turned his attention back to the injured soldier. He started to wrap the bandage, and looked up and smiled at the man just in time to see a bullet go through his head. 

"Who's there?" The man said, picking up the gun that was at his side. He looked up, in the direction the bullet had come from. Spotting the sniper soon after, the two made eye contact. Just he collapsed onto the ground, dead. The sniper, lifted his face from the scope, and reached for the walkie-talkie on his belt. 

"Good." Someone said from the other end. "Now Shoot Yourself." The voice was smooth, like he could make somebody do anything. The man put the gun to his chin, tears forming in his eyes. "Bye Bye." The voice from the radio said. And he pressed his finger on the trigger. 

Sam jolted awake from the vision, breathing heavily. Rory had his hand on his shoulders, and he saw he had collapsed. The others stood around him, worried about what had just happened. 

"Dean." Sam whispered, remembering the face of the sniper. Picking himself up, he grabbed his bag and turned toward the others. "Listen, it was nice to meet you all. But ... I've got to go."

"Where are you going?" Amy shouted after him. "Hotel's this way!" 

"I know!" He shouted back. "But I've got to get somewhere as soon as possible." 

"Well, I can take you!" The Doctor shouted, starting to run after Sam. "Faster than any plane. Where do you need to go?" Sam turned to face him before saying his response. 

"Afghanistan."


	4. Chapter 4

"Why Afghanistan?" The Doctor asked as he lead the group along the streets of London. Sam looked anxious and worried, ever since he had that event on the street. Amy looked as excited as she usually was, and Rory was just doing it because of her. Sherlock flicked his eyes between the ponds, mainly because he's bored. He admitted it back on the street. 

"You won't understand." Sam said. "My life is kinda complicated. How are you going to get me to Afghanistan?"

"You won't believe me. I have a very complex life." The Doctor responded, turning around to face Sam head on. "We can do this all day. Now, why Afghanistan?" 

"Where do I start?" Sam sighed. 

"From the beginning." Sherlock stated, leaning in eagerly to hear what Sam had to say. 

"That thing on the street was a vision. And what happens in those visions always comes true. And I saw three men die in Afghanistan. One of them was my brother."

"Dean." Sherlock muttered, as it was the name Sam said on the street. "But why are you concerned ... Oh." He said, stopping in mid thought. 

"Sorry, are we missing something?" Rory asked. 

"My brother is deathly afraid of planes." Sam said, and Sherlock nodded in agreement. "So, the only reason he'd not be in America ..."

"...Means he was forced to." The Doctor said, getting in on their logic. "Well, then we don't really have time to lose!" He started to take off in a full on sprint. Amy followed him, her hand still interlaced with Rory as she pulled him along. Sam & Sherlock shared a quick glance before running to catch up with the others. The five stopped in an alleyway, where a big blue box was parked in the middle. 

"A police public call box?" Sherlock wondered aloud. "What is that anyway?"

"It's from the 20th century. Often British police officers would use them as miniature police stations or to hold prisoners until transport. There's also a phone on the outside for people to contact the police. Since most officers carry two-way radios or cell phones, most have been discontinued." Sam responded. 

"Right. Must have deleted that."

"Deleted it?"

"If we can please focus." The Doctor interrupted. He patted the side of the box. "This is how you're going to get to Afghanistan."

"Listen, I don't mean to insult you, but that box barely looks big enough for you and Amy. How are all of us going to fit inside?" Sam asked, and the Doctor just sighed. He pulled a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the door. 

"You'll see." Amy said excitedly, and followed the Doctor inside. Sam, expecting a cramped area, walked inside and was surprised at its gaseous interior. 

"She's called the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." The Doctor said, spinning round the controls. "In other words, she's my time machine."

"It's .. it's" Sam started, but found it hard to get the words out. 

"Say it. Most people do."

"Impossible." Sherlock said in the doorway. 

"I was going to say it's bigger on the inside, but that works too." Sam responded to Sherlock's intrusion. 

"This ... This defies all known logic. How is this even possible?" 

"Well, it helps that I'm not human." The Doctor said. That's when Sherlock just lost it. 

"Not human! Not human, of course. You're an alien." He sounded calm, but everyone saw how panicked he was. He walked past Sam & up toward the Doctor. "Aliens don't exist."

"You're looking at one. Two hearts, bigger on the inside ship, no idea the year it was. How else do explain that besides an alien that also happens to be a time traveler." Sherlock walked over to one of the stairwells that connected to the main platform. 

"I am officially losing my mind." Sherlock said, sitting down and burying his head in his knees.

"You'll get used to it." The Doctor reassured him. He flicked down a switch on the Tardis, and the familiar wheezing sound washed over the console.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Dean didn't know how he was forced into this situation. He was on his knees, looking down the barrel of a sniper. His sights were trained on a British army doctor who was pointing an automatic at him. The doctor's hands were shaky, so he wasn't concerned he'd be shot. He's been shot before. 

But he didn't worry about that now. He only focused on his target. He was with another man, and was fixing up a wound on his leg. He aimed at the injured soldier & fired. The bullet hit him in the head, causing the soldier to fall to his side limply.

"Who's there?" The target called, picking up the gun by his side. Soon, he was spotted and made eye-contact with Dean. He almost felt sorry when looking into those big eyes of his. But that's how everybody looks when they have the chance to escape death. 

"Dean!" He turned to see his little brother running up to him. "Dean! Don't do this!"

"Focus Dean." The voice crackled from the other end of the radio. "Finish The Mission." He looked back through the sniper to find his objective gone. Then he felt himself rolling across the sand as Sam tackled him from the side.


	5. Chapter 5

"Who the hell are you?" 

Those were the first words that came out of John's mouth when he was finally able to get a handle on his situation. He was expecting to be shot at; after all it is war. But what was surprising was he was saved by a man in a trench coat who looked like he'd never been here in the first place. And he was shocked by what the mysterious rescuer said next. 

"You were never going to make that shot."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your hands when you held the gun were shaking. Means you haven't seen much combat. Also you haven't been in the military long, since you aren't yet comfortable with a gun. You clothes are relatively new as well, not worn out like other soldiers. Medical kit on the side of your bag is bigger than the standard issue, so you're a doctor. Gives an explanation why you haven't seen much action. How did I do?"

"I don't know how to respond. That ... was amazing. But you still didn't answer my question!" John yelled, as the stranger who had just saved his life walked away. He ran after him, and saw him disappear into a big blue box. He popped his head out a moment later. 

"Sorry, what was the question?" He asked. 

"Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes." He winked, then disappeared back into the box.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Dean! Snap out of it!" Sam yelled at his brother, who was wrestling with him on the ground. He was holding himself pretty well, but it was only a matter of time before Dean pinned him to the ground. He'd always been the better fighter. He just didn't understand why his brother would be fighting him. It wasn't Dean.

"I'm trying, Sam! It's those Jedi mind tricks again!" He looked around before with the Doctor, but there was nobody there. Trying again to see somebody, Dean seized his chance and push Sam down. Pinned down underneath him, Sam was useless to stop as the radio crackled to life. He'd forgotten about the radio. 

"Good, Dean. Now Finish Him." Dean reached in his back pocket to where his hand gun was, and Sam grabbed the radio from Dean's belt and smashed it against a rock next to them. But that still didn't stop Dean from pushing his handgun lightly into Sam's forehead.

"Dean, please. Don't do this." Sam pleaded. "I don't want to do this."

"I have to." Dean said, and that's when Sam slipped out a small giggle. "What's so funny?"

"You're just forgetting your own advice. Never put a gun directly on someone. It makes it easy to do this." He grabbed the gun with free hand and twisted it out of Dean's grasp, proceeding to throw it out of reach. Then it's was Dean's turn to laugh. "What?"

"Dude, I'm just messing with you. I could have stopped the second the radio was destroyed." Sam just stared at him in disbelief, causing Dean to laugh even more. 

"Jerk."

"Bitch." The Winchesters both stood up and dusted themselves off from the dust. They started to walk, Sam leading, when he tried to get some answers to some burning questions. 

"How'd you even get to Afghanistan? Or this situation for the matter?"

"That thing we were hunting before you went to England. Turns out he was a guy; the one on the radio. Told me he needed me for a job & convinced me with the freak ability of his that I should do this in order to protect you. When he tells me it's "abroad", I flip out and try to back out. That's when another guy behind me jabs a needle in my neck, and I'm here. The gun was set up and the radio filled told me what to do. How'd you know I was here?"

"My visions again." Sam simply said. "Got here as quick as I could."

"How'd you get here anyway?" Dean asked, as they reached the Tardis. 

"This." Sam said, pointing to the Tardis. A man that Dean was trying to shoot was standing outside, trying to see how to get inside. He turned as the two approached, and backed away after recognizing Dean. "Calm down, okay. He's not going to hurt you."

"He was going to kill me!" He shouted. 

"I was forced to." Dean said, and held his hand out. "I'm Dean Winchester."

Hesitantly, he took it. "John Watson. And you are?" He said, looking directly at Sam. 

"Sam Winchester."

"Are you guys..?" John asked, and Dean groaned. 

"We're brothers. Why do people keep think we're dating?" He then turned to Sam. "And how are we going to get home in a big blue box?"

"You'll see. Just get in." Sam grabbed the handle and pushed, heading inside followed by John. 

"It's push? I was pulling the whole time. If you need to push to open, then why..." He stopped when he saw what the inside looked like. He ran outside, just to confirm what he saw. 

"What is it?" Dean asked. 

"It's bigger on the inside." John gasped, and this time both went inside the blue box. 

"Wow." was all that Dean managed to get out. He walked up to the console where Sam was, next to a very energetic man. "Who's Mr. Bow tie?"

"Hello, I'm the Doctor." Mr. Bow tie turned to him. 

"Doctor who?"

"Oh, I love it when people do the thing. You must be Dean then."

"How'd you run into these people?" Dean asked, directing he question at Sam. 

"She almost ran me over." He said, pointing to where Amy was standing. Dean started to walk over her, his blue steel roaring to go, when Sam clamped his hand down on his shoulder. 

"Dude, can't I introduce myself?"

"She's engaged, before you get any ideas." He said. Smiling, he stayed where he was. She smiled back. 

"I'm Dean."

"Amy. And my fiancé, Rory." She said, throwing her arm over the man next her. An awkward tension hung in the air, until Sam broke it. 

"So, Dean. Who was the guy who convinced you to murder John?"

"I don't know. When I asked, he only told me 2 words."

"What two words?" The Doctor asked. Then an image popped up on the screen on the console. There was a man, with black slick hair. He wore a business suit, but it was hardly visible. His eyes were a cold expression, and his mouth had no traces of a smile. He spoke two words, having its desired effect on both the Doctor and Dean. 

"Miss me?"


	6. Chapter 6

"That's him." Dean said, pointing at the screen. "That's the guy who got me to Afghanistan."

"No no no no no." The Doctor said, running around the Tardis pulling switches and levers. 

"Sorry, I'm a bit lost here." John said. "Who's he?"

"Moriarty!" The Doctor said, pulling another lever. The wheezing sound the Tardis filled the room, with the doctor trying to navigate. "Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal, very dangerous." He then muttering to himself. "This isn't right. Not now, not now."

"Sorry, what do you mean, Not now?" Sam asked. 

"I'll explain." He said, and pushed a few buttons, flinging everyone to the side. The Doctor, desperately clinging on to the Tardis, pushed down another lever sending everybody in the other direction. Grasping onto the the console, Amy tried to right herself and pressed some blue buttons on the controls. Instantly, the Tardis began to right itself. The Doctor glared at her. "Pond, what did you do?"

"I pressed the stabilizers." Amy shrugged. 

"No, Those" The Doctor said, pointing to the buttons Amy pressed. "don't do anything. They're blue ... boringers."

"Sammy." Dean said, ignoring the two arguing. "How is this ... any different from ... FLYING ON A GODDAMN PLANE!?! Remember what happened the last time I was on one?"

"Yeah. But it was fine earlier." Sam responded, simply shrugging his shoulders. 

"It was fine earlier." Dean mimicked, picking himself off the floor. The Doctor raced past him, flicking a few more switches before the group landed. 

"Here we are! Little side trip, just to show you a little about Moriarty. He's not someone who should be underestimated." He dashed to the door, pulling it open. "After you."

"Sorry, but I really don't see how that man could be dangerous." Sam said, pointing to the screen where the strange message continued to play. 

"Trust me, Sam, he's dangerous." He said, dashing out the door. Dean dashed out after him and was soon followed by the Ponds and Sam. John tried to follow, but the Doctor blocked his way. "Sorry, but you can't see this yet."

"Why not?" 

"Because it's in your future. And I'm not risking causing a paradox ... again." The Doctor said, and almost forced John back into the Tardis. "If you want, go and find Sherlock."

"The man who saved me?" John asked, noticing he'd hasn't seen him since he disappeared into the ship. 

"Yes, him." The Doctor responded, an agitated edge to his tone. "We might have ... broke him. He didn't take the whole bigger on the inside thing to well. He's in a room by that staircase." He pointed to the first staircase, then closed the door on John. He then rushed to the others, who stared intently at the screens above them. All of them had Moriarty's picture constantly repeating the same four words over and over again. 

Did you miss me?

"2014. This message is plastered all over London."

"How is one man able to do all this?" Sam asked, not looking away.

"I don't know, and I hate not knowing." He said. "But what really baffles me is how he's alive. He died in 2012 by shooting himself in the head." 

"How do you know so much about him?" Amy asked, but the Doctor just looked down at his shoes. She looked at her raggedy man, and knew he was hiding something from them. But she didn't point it out in front of the others. The Winchesters knew it to, sharing a look and silently agreeing to drop it. 

"It ... It doesn't matter how." The Doctor finally managed to choke out. He looked back up at the four, all of them holding the same look on their faces. We know. 

"Wait, if this video was made in 2014," Sam asked, changing the uncomfortable topic. "Then how did it get to the Tardis in 2006?"

"Finally! Somebody's asking the real questions." The Doctor exclaimed, and he ran back into the Tardis. Amy and Rory followed, their steps in sync with each other. Sam and Dean followed in the back. But it wasn't all the same as they left it. A man stood at the console, tossing an apple in his hand. His blonde hair was all messy, and he wore a dirty old black sweatshirt. A red shirt could be seen covering up the waistline of his black jeans. 

"The answer to your question, Sammy, is me." The man said, and the Doctor glared at the mysterious stranger. "And Doctor, I've see you've regenerated since we last meet."

"Hello again, Master. Been a while." The Doctor said, the usual lightheartedness in his voice gone. It was all cold. "What are you doing here?"

"Warning you. Because you and your little ... friends can't stop us. The three of us, together, are unbeatable."

"Whose the third?" Dean asked, his hand clutching his gun on his belt. 

"Yellow eyes." The Master sneered, and the Winchesters tensed up. "Make it nice and personal. For all of you. Even if Sherlock and John don't know it yet." He tossed the apple he was holding, and Rory caught it.

"So, what's the next step in your little game?" The Doctor said, starting to walk toward him. 

"Like I'd tell you. But I've got other things to attend to." He started to press buttons on the device on his wrist. By the time the Doctor reached the spot where he once was, he was long gone. 

"Who was that?" Amy asked, and the Doctor turned toward her with his serious expression still on his face. 

"An old friend and even bitter rival." He said, and started to pull at levers and push at buttons on the Tardis. "What'd he toss at you, Rory?"

"An apple." He responded

"They're rubbish. I hate apples." He muttered, as Rory tossed Sam the apple. 

"Hold on, Doctor. There's a message on the apple."

"What's it say?" He rushed down the stairs, and practically tore the apple out of his hand. In the apple were 3 letters, one made from a bite someone took out of it. 

IOU


	7. Chapter 7

John wandered down the corridors of the Tardis, peaking his head into each room to find Sherlock. It felt like forever, but he found him after a while. Sherlock was standing in a room that looked like a modern London flat. Except for the big yellow smiley face painted on the wall to his left. That Sherlock was shooting at. 

"Why are you doing that?" He asked, as Sherlock turned around and shot the the wall again. 

"It's a way I release my frustration." He said, firing off another bullet. "I can't see how this is possible. A box ... Bigger on the inside. It defies all logic. I've already got an room across the hall filled with equations and no of them explain this." He pointed his finger around the room. 

"Well, maybe the problem is that you're applying logic to it." John suggested, gaining a glare from Sherlock. "I'm mean, the man is an alien. So, they have alien technology. It's not so far fetched if you think about it." The two stood in silence for a minute before Sherlock spoke up. 

"So, why are you so interested in me?" 

"Well, you did happen to save my life. Never really seemed to give a proper thank you. So, thank you for saving my life."

"No, that was Sam and his visions." Sherlock deadpanned, but turned to see John was just a little closer than before. Sherlock hesitantly backed away, for he wasn't very good around people. In the cases of most of them, his serious demeanor tended to rub them off the wrong way. 

"Well, it wasn't Sam that came dashing in and tackled me out of the way of a bullet." John spoke. "It wasn't Sam, it was you. You saved my life, so stop pushing it away." Sherlock fired off another shot at the wall, causing John to allow some giggles to escape. "You are such an enigma."

"Well, that's not what people usually call me."

"What do you call you?"

"A psychopath." Sherlock answered, and smiles covered both men's faces. 

"You're not a psychopath."

"Well, in my honest opinion, I prefer highly-function sociopath." 

"Who calls you that?" John asks, taking another step closer to Sherlock. This time though, he doesn't back away. 

"Well, myself mostly. I've never really been a people person. I tend to ... offend people." Sherlock admitted. John looked down at shoes, feeling now they were the most interesting thing in the room. He saw how close they were, and it made him uncomfortable since he wasn't gay. Glancing back, he tried all he could to avoid eye contact. 

"You think ... we should?" He asked, scratching a spot on his head. Sherlock muttered in agreement, and headed past him to the door. John turned to watch him leave only to see the door slam shut. Sherlock tried pulling it, but it wouldn't open. 

"No no no. Again, Not possible!" He shouted, kicking at the door. 

"What's so improbable about a locked door?" John wondered aloud. 

"The fact that it doesn't have one." Sherlock said, his voice getting calmer but still laced with panic. John walked over to the door, and tried pushing it open with his shoulder. "It's supposed to pull to open." Sherlock corrected him. 

"Yeah, well, tell that to the door out front." He backed away, looking as it never budged an inch. Sherlock looked at the door again, wondering how it could lock itself when it didn't have any lock. Says the man who is on an alien spaceship. When he turned he saw John knocked out on the floor. He crouched down next to him the same second his eyes flew open. 

"Need help?" He asked as he stood up, offering his hand. John stood up on his own ignoring Sherlock's gesture. 

"No, I'm perfectly fine." He pushed his hand out, sending Sherlock flying into the bookshelf. He hit it hard, with books crumbling around him as he fell. Sherlock didn't even have time to react before being thrown again and pinned to the opposite wall. 

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, but 'John' just ignored him. 

"Finally! It feels so good to be in a meat suit again." He ranted, partially directing it to Sherlock. "Mind you, it's a very big cage, but still felt cramped. At least it's better than Hell though."

"What are you?" Sherlock asks, and 'John' his head toward him.

"I'll give you a hint." He said, and closed his eyes. When they opened, they were pitch black before quickly switching to their normal hue. 

"What are you?" Sherlock spat, getting some spit in 'John's' face. He wiped it off in annoyance. 

"Right. I forgot Mr. Clever here doesn't usually deal with this. It defies his precious logic. Another hint. If you were to insult me, what's the first thing that pops into that big head of yours?"

"You ... Demon." He said, and 'John' grinned as the gears started to click. "You're a demon. What you going to do, kill me? You have me where you want me."

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. That's too obvious. And I need to be undercover for the boss."

"Why him, and not me?"

"Because I could never replicate your genius." 'John' spoke, slowly stepping within Sherlock's personal space. Sherlock tried to squirm away, but only felt the grip on his muscles tighten. "John here, he's just a solider like me. Following orders like a good boy. He's nobody." 

"Why do you do this?"

"And why do ask so many questions?" The demon snapped back. "I'm not giving you every answer. This ain't some movie cliché." He flicked his fingers, and Sherlock felt the grip on his muscles loosen. 'John' though was quickly on either side of him, giving him no place to go. 

"Just get one thing clear, Sherlock. You tell anyone what I am, I won't hesitate to snap you fragile little neck. Questions?"

"Isn't. This isn't some movie cliché." 'John' glared at Sherlock as he smirked. He would have thrown out another threat but Dean walked in. 

"You two lovebirds done in here?" He said as he noticed the boys. 

"I'm not gay." 'John' said. 

"Prefer to be married to the work." Sherlock said simultaneously. Dean simply rolled his eyes. 

"Keep telling your selfs that. Now, you two might want to get to the console room. Things are about getting interesting up here."


	8. Chapter 8

Amy swung her legs back and forth on the railing, watching as the Doctor fiddled with his time machine. Sam stood next to her as he watched the hall that Dean went down for him to get back with Sherlock and John. He tapped his hands nervously on the rail, starting to form the rhythm of the songs Dean constantly played in the impala. Rory was helping the Doctor with what he was doing. He had the carved-out apple in his right hand while he held down a button with the other.

"So," Amy started, trying to release some awkward tension in the room. "You and your brother didn't seem as freaked out with a box that's bigger on the inside."

"Trust me, I feel like this is a regular Tuesday to us. We might not deal with this type or level of crazy, but we deal with enough."

"Really?" 

"Yeah. Remember the stories you're told as a kid about the things that go bump in the night?" She nodded. 

"That is, like, every day for us." Dean said, strolling down the hallway like he owned the place. "Ghosts, Demons, Shapeshifters. We've even dealt with gods before."

"You're joking?" Amy asked, and both brothers shook there heads as Sherlock and 'John' came out from behind Dean. 

"Of course you're not joking. Just another thing to add to my list of things that were once impossible. Next thing you know Vampires and Werewolves are real." Sherlock said, trying to be sarcastic. 

"Sherlock, I think that they're real." Rory spoke from behind the center column, seeing as that Sam & Dean's faces never changed. 

"Great. What else is real?" Sherlock directed to the boys. Neither said a word until Dean spoke up. 

"My boobs." He said, earning a slap from Sam. "Dude, what was that for?"

"Last time you said you got arrested."

"Cause I said it to a cop. What's the best he'd be able to do, piss me off?" 

"Oh, I'd be able to do that easily." Sherlock said. 

"Stay out of this." Sam said, knowing his brother well enough to see what could happen. 

"I'd like to see you try." Dean shot back at Sherlock. He got right up in his face, putting on a cocky. Sam grabbed his arm, and tried pulling him back. 

"Dean!" He shouted. Dean turned back to him, his cocky grin plastered on his face. 

"Relax, Sammy. I'm gonna be fine."

"Here we go." Sam said, burying his head in his face. 

"Oh, this is going to be good." Amy commented as Rory slid in next to her. 

"Yeah, and knowing my brother, someone's going to end up with a broken nose." Sam said to them both, but he knew that he was helpless to stop his stubborn minded brother. 

"Leather jacket, looks old but two sizes too big." Sherlock started, taking in every detail about Dean as he spoke. Hand me down, most likely by a father. Suggested by the lack of feminine touch, so no mother. Dad you idolize given that your still wearing his jacket. Scratch that, gift from him, seeing it's about 10 years old from being worn down. Haven't taken it off since you stepped on the Tardis, and slight squeeze marks on the wrists. Too small to be hands grabbing you, but not a problem from the aggressive demeanor you're giving. Dad's gone and one of the only things left from him to you."

"You got all that ... from my jacket?"

"Obviously. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Move around a lot because of worn out cheep shoes, one night stands with no future plans when you glance at Amy, protective of your brother because of your stance when you two are together."

"Wanna know my opinion, cheekbones?" Dean clenched his fists, and Sam rushed in between the two before his brother started throwing punches. He grabbed his brother's waist as Dean lunged at Sherlock, who only back away from his swinging punches. 

"Dean, this isn't helping." Sam urged as he held Dean back. He glanced at his younger brother, before calming down. He glared once more at Sherlock, before turning his back on him. 

"Just, shut up." He said, finally relaxing his fists. He stole a glance at Sherlock. The detective was swiping his eyes all over Sam, trying to deduce the younger of the brothers. Well, besides the usual. He flicked his eyes once again over Sam, before asking him something that nagged him since it been mentioned. 

"Tell me about your visions, Sam." He'd barely been able to get out the words before Dean was in front of his brother. A gun in his hand was trained at Sherlock, and both men knew he wasn't afraid to fire. 

"I SAID SHUT UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He shouted at him. Sherlock backed away, but only enough that he was in arm's reach of 'John'. 

"Over protective. Didn't you know he told me about them earlier?" Dean looked at Sam, who nodded his head. Stop it, he mouthed at his brother, but the gun still stayed pointed at Sherlock. 

"Leave the family problems to us." Dean said in a deep tone. "Back off it, Sherly, 'cause I'm feeling trigger happy today."

"You want to play that way? Fine." In one quick motion, he swiped the gun out of 'John's' pocket and pointed it at Dean. "Your turn." Both men stared at one another, neither one pulling the trigger. At a stalemate, it was broken when the Doctor shoved his way in between Sherlock and Dean. 

"GUNS. DOWN. NOW!" He shouted. He took a deep breath before continuing his rant. "I don't like guns on my Tardis. I understand you have differences, but if you want to leave sooner rather than later, I suggest you two suck it up and put away the guns." Dean looked at the rage building in the Doctor's eyes, reminding him of his father. He put the gun down, and Sherlock followed suit. 

"Fine." He grumbled. "But the next time Deductions here deduces me, I swear I'm going to punch someone." Sherlock's eyes lingered on Dean as he handed the gun back to 'John'. 

"Now that's out of the way." Rory spoke. "Doctor, you might want to explain the plan to Sherlock and John."

"Right, yes. Master, old friend now enemy, left this behind on the Tardis." He held up the apple, then tossed it over to Sherlock. "Using it to track them to wherever they're hiding."

"And when we do find them?" 'John' asked. 

"Separate them." Sam said. "They're stronger together. So, we split them up so we can fight our own battles."

"But if we can get a shot on Yellow Eyes, we take it, Sammy." Dean added. 

"Who's Yellow Eyes?" It was Amy who asked. "I know the Master mention him earlier."

"A demon who me and Sammy have some ... personal history with." Dean said, and left it at that. "I don't care what any of you say, if I can I'll kill him. Even if it kills me first." The whole group was silent, until The Doctor broke the uncomfortableness. 

"So, the old girl is going to need some time to track The Master, so sleeping arrangements. The Ponds in one room, Winchesters in another, and then Sherlock and John in the third." Everyone muttered in agreement, except Dean. 

"No. If I have to share a room with someone else, I'm taking it." Sam looked at him in confusion. "Guy eats half a burrito and he goes toxic. I'm with him 24/7 and I need some time off. I'm sleeping with John, and Sam can take Sherlock." Nobody said a word, so they followed the Doctor to where their rooms were. Dean was about to follow, when Sam grabbed his wrist. 

"Dude, what the hell? Since when have you ever complained about sharing a room?" 

"Sammy, relax." He said as he pressed something into the palm of his hand. "I've got this." He walked away, leaving Sam alone in the control room. He looked at the neatly folded paper in his hand and opened it. It was crumpled, but what was written was still legible. 

Don't trust John  
Everyone's at risk  
Make your move  
Or else it's   
Now or never. -SH


	9. Chapter 9

Dean sat on the chair in the corner of his room with 'John', watching him with the occasional glance at his his watch. The room wasn't big, all it had was the chair, a desk, a little table by the mini fridge, and the two bunk beds against the wall. He wasn't complaining, he'd slept in smaller, but bunk beds? Really? Well, as long as he was stuck with this, he might want to have some fun with it. Dean glanced at his watch again. 6:59. He waited, watching the time until it changed to 7.

Music blared out the only alarm in the room, which Dean strategically placed right next to 'John's' ear. He woke with a start, and fell out of bed. Luckily, Dean had made sure to put to put his mattress on the floor in case. He started laughing as 'John' shot him a look of annoyance  

"Morning, Johnny!"

"Was that really necessary?" 'John' asked, well, after he got his bearings.

"No." Dean responded with a straight face. But soon after, started laughing again. "But it was hilarious." He then started to lip-sync the words of the song. His finger was pointed at John, and he bobbed his head in time with the beat as the chorus played out.

" _It was the Heat of the Moment_

_Telling me what your heart meant_

_The Heat of the Moment_

_Shone in your eyes_ "

'John' rolled his eyes at Dean as he walked to the fridge, continuing to bob his head to Asia. He grabbed a beer from the pack he'd stashed in there earlier. He swigged down some, before offering a second bottle to 'John'.

"No thanks." He responded, and pushed the bottle away.

"Your loss." Dean took another swig of beer.

"How much do you drink?"

"Daily or weekly?" 'John' thought about it for a moment.

"Weekly."

"Somewhere in the mid-fifties. When you've got a job like mine." Dean tossed him a water bottle, and 'John' caught it hesitantly. "Drinking helps the pain."

"Must be a hard job then. And I thought my job was rough." 'John' drank the water bottle, and cried out in agony. Dean walked over, standing just above where 'John' was curled on the floor.

"You should know. You're one of the things I hunt." He pointed to the bottle. "Holy water. Filled it up last night after you were down."

"The little bastard." He muttered, followed by another scream as Dean 'accidentally' knocked over the water.

"He's not the only one you should be worried about." He said, and kicked him to knock him out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sherlock woke up to the sounds of screaming. It was distant, but it wasn't in terror. It was more of pain than anything else. He sat up on his elbows to see Sam already dressed, pulling stuff out of a green duffel. A second scream rang out, slightly longer this time.

"When'd you get that? And what was that screaming?" Sherlock asked, and Sam noticed him. He held two flasks in one hand, and a canister of salt in the other. Sherlock could only assume they were for the demon.

"That's John. Or at least the demon inside him. Dean said he was going to trick him with a holy water bottle. After he had fallen asleep, the Doctor drop us off for supplies back at our car. Hence, the bag."

"How ...?"

"Dean slipped me your note earlier. We also told the Doctor once you and John had passed out. Wasn't as shocked about it as I'd think after that whole gun thing. We also told him to tell Amy and Rory."

"Why'd you tell him?" Sherlock asked.

"Because we needed to find a empty room to interrogate him in." Dean answered as he popped in the doorway. He had John knocked out, dragging his limp body behind him on a mattress. He also had two flasks in his hands. "I bet he's got answers, and I want to get them out of him before we exorcise him."

"That holy water, too?" Sherlock asked, pointing to the two flasks in Dean's hand.

"This is holy water." He responded, lifting up the one on the right. He placed it in his jacket pocket before holding up the other and taking a swig of it. "This is whiskey. Now will you maybe stop asking questions and help me with him. Army boy's heavier than he looks."

"Sure. Where we taking him?" Sam asked him as he came to the other side of the mattress.

"Room at the the end of the hall. Then I gotta go back for the spray paint. Doc said he'd join us when we're ready." Sam nodded, gripping either side of the mattress. "On three?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Doctor watched the Winchesters prep the room for Demon interrogation from the Tardis monitor. A line of salt was already at the door, and Sam was spraying a devil's trap on the ceiling. Amy came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rested her chin on his chin, peering over his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" She whispered in his ear, making him turn his head toward her. He looked at her with those big eyes and that poker face smile before quickly turning back toward the screen.

"I'm fine. Perfectly fine." He responded back a little too quickly.

"Since when have you believed in monsters?" Amy asked, knowing the Doctor was lying. "And not the alien kind. The supernatural ones. Remember Venice? And that time you told me about with the werewolf and Queen Victoria?"

"Vampires don't react that badly to sunlight. And I didn't know about werewolves at the time. Things are ... different."

"Since when?"

"Since ..." He paused, and looked at Amy. Her face was cross, but also a mix of concern. Like it said _Why are you hiding this? Trust me._ "Do you really want to know?" She nodded.  The Doctor took a deep breath, and told her. "Since the last time I met the Winchesters."


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor was barely in the doorframe, a mere spectator to the events unfolding. 'John' was bound to an old chair, a demon trap above his head. Dean was circling him, more holy water in his hand. Sam was in the corner, and Sherlock about stood halfway between him and the demon. 'John' had black eyes, and was still steaming from when Dean had last doused with water. They'd been at it for a 1/2 hour, and so far had nothing. 

"It's no use!" 'John' shouted through the pain. "You might as well just exorcise me already!!"

"Why were you in the Tardis?" Dean asked, gripping the flask tighter so his knuckles became redder. 

"Like I'd tell you." The demon spat out for the thousandth time. He smiled, but his eyes were still cold, bringing on a sinister feel to it all. Dean, tired with all this at this point, threw more holy water on him. 'John' screamed through gritted teeth. Dean turned away from the demon, and addressed the others. 

"Alright, I can't get anything. Anyone else want to try before I exorcise this son of a bitch?"

"Let me." Sam spoke softly, before looking over to Dean. He had a look of disbelief on his face, but it quickly changed to his no-way-in-hell-I'm-letting-you-do-this face. Sam shot him one of his famous bitch faces. 

"I'm pretty sure you already know how I feel on the matter." Dean spoke calmly, but Sherlock saw he was aggravated at the mere suggestion of the idea as Dean's hand clamped the flask harder. Sam looked down at his brother. 

"I'm not a little kid anymore." He protested. 

"Well, your still my little brother. And I'm not letting you do this."

"Can you not do this chick-flick moment in front of me?" 'John' piped up from his trap. Dean responded by flicking some holy water on him. 

"Shut up. You don't get a say." Then he directed his attention back toward his brother. 

"Look." Sam interrupts before can get a word in. "Yellow eyes obviously has some sort of plan for me, we know that. So, if that demon works for him, maybe I'll be able to get the information out of him faster that you can." Dean didn't respond. 

"He's right." Sherlock spoke, and the older Winchester glared. The detective shrugged, as if to say I'm only stating the facts here.

"Curly's comments aside, Doc." The Doctor lifted his head up, distracted by something else. "You've been listening. What's you opinion on the matter?"

"Honestly, I'd have to go with Sam on this one." The Doctor responded. 

"Three to one, Dean." Sam said, and held out his hand for the flask. Dean hesitated for a moment, before placing it in his brother's hand. "Alone, please."

The Doctor and Sherlock filed out quietly, neither saying a word. Dean, as expected, didn't go out as easy. But a look from his brother and he was out the door. Sam closed the door behind him, and turned to face the demon. 

"Well, thanks for that heartfelt bro-ment." It spoke, sarcasm dripping from his words. "But I'd like to get out of here now."

"I think we both know I can't let you do that." 

"Do we really have to do the questions thing?" 'John' complained. Sam nodded, and walked down closer to the demon. He looked at the flask Dean gave him, and tossed it to the side. 

"Start with an easy one. Why John?"

"Because like me, all he is is a soldier. Following orders. Plus unlike everyone else, he and Sherlock have nobody looking out for them. Easier to play someone like you than the sociopathic genius that is Sherlock Holmes." Sam paused, carefully wording his next question. 

"What does Yellow Eyes have planned, just for me? I know I'm one of those special kids of his, so what is it? The end game?" 

'John' laughed at this. "He's going to have to tell you that himself." 

"Figured that one was a long shot." Sam kneeled down, looking down at the demon at eye level. "Next question. Why are you so desperate to be exorcised?" 'John' scoffed. 

"Why do you think I want to go back to that hell hole?" 

"Because I've learned a little bit about lying. I've lied and held secrets my whole life. And I don't know if you know, but you're in a human. Who doesn't really have a good poker face." Sam stood up, rattling off a few lines of an exorcism. The demon seemed in pain, but the smile never to leave his face. 

"C'mon! That all you got!" 'John' yelled at Sam. 

"See, demons don't usually want me to exorcise them. Why is so badly that you want to go back to Hell?" The demon didn't answer, only looking at Sam. The room was silent, except for 'John's' labored breathing. 

"I don't want to die." He finally choked out. "Yellow eyes plans to kill everyone on this ship except you. And that includes me."

"Can't kill a demon."

"Not when you have the Colt." Sam's eyes widened, forgetting momentarily that Yellow Eyes had the Colt. 'John' wasn't done though. "What else do you think he's going to do with the final bullet?"

"So what, kill everyone except me. Then what? Activate his major plan?"

"Sorry soldier, that's classified." Sam frowned, then rattled off the next several lines of the exorcism. After he was the done, the demon looked pained, even smoking a little. "I told you ... all I know." 

"Anything else?" Sam pressed, leaning right up into the demon's face.

"Besides the obvious fact that you're going to get everyone else killed and that it's most likely a trap you're walking into? No, not really." Sam stood up, looking down at 'John'. 

"Do you know us? We hunt things that constantly want to kill on a regular basis." Sam turned and started walking out the door, picking up the flask in the corner on his way out. 

"You idiots are going to die!!" The demon yelled at the younger Winchester as he stood in the doorway. Sam turned back briefly, looking it in the eye. 

"Audi nos."


End file.
